


Our Own Little Candyland

by ShaneAndrew



Category: Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brotp, Crossover, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Kid!Avengers, Pokemon - Freeform, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneAndrew/pseuds/ShaneAndrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Science bros travelling the Pokémon world"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -Many, many thanks to herpderpdoctor for the prompt and gorgeous beta job. Couldn't have done this without you, sunshine :3
> 
> -This is a kid!/teen!Avengers fic; age range is ten to fifteen or so. All other characters are their canonical age.
> 
> -Story is told through Bruce's POV

“I dunno about this, Tony.”

            “C’mon, big guy. What could go wrong?”

            “I hate when you say that. We always get in trouble when you say that.”

            “Remember what I said about tiptoeing an’ strutting? This is one of those moments where you gotta strut.”

            Bruce bit at his bottom lip, hands already wringing themselves together. He pushed his too-large glasses up his nose, ran a hand through his mop of limp curls.

            He wasn’t sure they were – that _he_ was supposed to be here. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing, or at least he’d never thought he was. Pokémon trainers were always so _cool_ , and mature, and they knew everything, and, well…Bruce wasn’t cool or mature and he sure didn’t know anything like everything. He was just a science nerd. A teacher’s pet who’d rather be alone with his Kid’s Lab Kit than daydreaming about future Gym badges with all the rest of the kids.

            Which certainly didn’t explain why Tony – cool, popular, _cool_ Tony – was his best friend. Tony’s dad was well-known in the Pokémon world, always designing some new tech for catching or healing or super-powering a trainer’s team. People were always saying how they expected great things from Tony, or wondering over what kind of Trainer he’d be. It was always Tony Tony Tony, with Bruce standing shyly off to the side, torn between jealousy at the attention and pathetic gratitude that no one was bothering him.

            He still wasn’t exactly sure why Tony seemed to like him so much, or how he’d been so lucky to be befriended by him. He only knew that it had always been just the two of them, at the end of the day.

            And now they stood in front of Professor Selvig’s lab on the morning of his tenth birthday to get his first Pokémon. The first for both of them – Tony was older than him by a whole month and a half but he’d wanted to wait for Bruce before starting out.

            That was the only thing, really, that had him sucking in a deep breath and pushing open the door twice his size. Tony was right here next to him. Tony was his friend, and they were gonna take on the world together. With Tony by his side, Bruce didn’t feel like a freak – he felt smart, cool, _special_. One of a kind.

            A muffled gasp escaped him upon entering the lab, and Tony chuckled and gave him a friendly punch to the arm. It was big, this place. Big and pale and very, very grown-up. Tall men and women in long white coats were poring over massive tomes, or typing furiously away at their big, whirring computers. The white-noise of the place was deafening in its hushed murmur.

            His instinct was to shrink away, and his gaze flicked to his friend. Beneath the laughing mask of yeah-its-cool-but-I’ve-seen-better, there was a kind of disbelieving sparkle in Tony’s eyes and, unless Bruce was very much mistaken, the barest tremble in his lower lip. Worry pricking through the wonder, Bruce took his hand and squeezed gently, reassuringly. The tremble vanished.

            “You must be Stark’s boy.” Tall, grey-haired, blue-eyed and solidly built, the renowned researcher Erik Selvig approached them, stopping a few feet away to peer down at the pair with his head tilted to the side. There were bags under his eyes and an air of quiet distractedness about him.

            “That’s what they call me, but my name’s Tony.”

            “And you?”

            “…’m Bruce.” Belatedly he stuck out a hand, plastered on a smile. “I…it’s um…it’s totally awesome to meet you, Professor Selvig. I read all your papers, even though Mom said I prolly wouldn’t get them, and well I didn’t really get _everything_ but it’s okay ’cause they were just the most interesting stuff, especially all the stuff about harnessing energy, and –”

            “Slow down there.” Bemused, he cocked an eyebrow at the ball of nervous fidgeting before him. “Always glad to meet a fan, of course. But I’m thinking you’re here for something else, yes?”

_He doesn’t wanna talk about science._

            “Me ’n Bruce are lookin’ to get us each a Pokémon!” Slinging an arm around his friend’s slightly deflated shoulders, Tony shot the Professor a megawatt smile. “What kinds have you got?”

            Selvig’s gaze lingered for just a moment on Bruce before acknowledging Tony with a small smile and motioning for the boys to follow him. “You’ll have to come and see for yourself,” he said over his shoulder.

            “Tony, are you sure –”

            “What’s wrong now?”

            “What if none of them like me?”

            “One of ’em’s gotta.”

            “All the books say if your Pokémon doesn’t like you they won’t listen.”

            “I like you, and I don’t always listen.” Tony grinned teasingly. “Pokémon ain’t all black and white, y’know.”

            Bruce conceded this with a sort of shrugging nod. “But just _say_ –”

            “Then we’ll just go tear through this dump ’til we find one that does.”

            “Keep your voice down!”

            Selvig, to his credit, seemed to be pretending not to hear their whispered discourse. He circled around a low table to a set of locked cabinets at the very back of the lab, punched in a combination and withdrew a small tray. He set it gently on the table in front of the boys and stepped back.

            Three Pokéballs sat there, looking innocent enough.

            “Why’s that one wiggling?” Tony leaned forward to poke at the ball. “Is it on a sugar high or something?”

            “The Pokémon don’t dissipate when they’re put into Pokéballs,” Bruce said automatically. “They’re…I think the word is reduced, but basically what happens is that their molecular structure gets temporarily disbanded, and then rearranged so that they’re smaller and can fit into a differently sized space. Then they reform once the ball’s closed up, and have been known to move around inside.” Eagerly he looked up at the professor. “I mean I don’t know the exact science of it but that’s the basics, right?”

            “Spot on.” Again he gave Bruce that queer look, and again it was gone in an instant. “This one’s the Water-type,” he started, pointing to the Pokéball on the left. “This middle one is Fire-type, and this one,” he took the wiggling ball and held it out towards Bruce, “Is Grass-type.”

            Brightening warily, Bruce reached out a small hand, felt his brow quirk at how heavy the ball seemed at first. It sat there a moment, twitching every now and again. It was almost a quizzical motion, as though the creature inside knew that something had changed in its immediate environment.

            On the tail of that thought the ball suddenly burst open, and Bruce felt a surprised laugh spill out of him as the white light formed into a Pokémon with a large leaf on its head. It stared up at him with cherry red eyes, and if Bruce didn’t know better he’d say it was studying him.

            “Hi there,” he said shyly. “My name’s Bruce. What’s yours?”

            “It’s a Ch–”

            Bruce waved a hand impatiently at Tony. “I know you know. I want it to tell me instead.” Something very strange was welling up inside him.

            The Pokémon tossed its head then gave off a kind of musical chirping, roughly shaped into a word.

            “Chi – Chikorita? Is that right?” It nodded, leaf bobbing. “Huh, that’s kind of a funny name. Can I – ow!”

            Tony laughed as Bruce sucked on the cut Chikorita had sliced into Bruce’s hand with its leaf. “That one’s got a hell of an attitude. I like it!”

            “Generally Pokémon have a strong sense of pride,” Selvig explained. “And they don’t appreciate teasing or insults.”

            “But I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” Hurt, Bruce looked back at Chikorita. “I didn’t mean funny like stupid. I meant like something I hadn’t heard anything like before. Funny like different and new.”

            Chikorita blinked a few times before padding back to its Pokéball, poking the button with its nose and slipping inside. This time, the ball didn’t wiggle.

            “What did I do wrong?” Inexplicably sad now, Bruce eyed the inert ball. “Why did Chikorita go away?”

            “That Chikorita came to us from a bad situation,” Selvig said. “We don’t know the details; it was sulking in the trees out behind the lab when we found it, covered in scratches and burns. We’ve had it maybe four months, and it has become less hostile within that time but it won’t approach our other Pokémon voluntarily. Occasionally others will approach it, but it either ignores or attacks them when they do.”

            “Oh.” That made sense, Bruce thought. “Is there anything that makes it not hostile?”

            “Why do you ask?” Selvig leaned back against the cabinets and slid his gaze away, making a thorough study of the remnants of cotton swabs stuck under his fingernails. “It would take an immensely skilled Trainer with a good deal of patience to adequately raise such a Pokémon.”

            “J-just ’cause I’m a nerdy weird kid doesn’t mean I couldn’t do it!” The sharpness of defensive anger, never very far away, whipped into the boy’s voice. But no sooner had the words burst out of him than his face went beet red, and he hung his head between hunched shoulders.

            And then Tony was there standing between Bruce and Selvig, hands on his hips. “Go away for a minute, would ya?” Without waiting for a reply he grabbed his friend by the wrist and tugged him to the other side of the room.

            “It’s okay, big guy.”

            “No it’s not. I yelled at a grown-up, and now I won’t get to get a Pokémon and everyone will laugh at me, and my parents will be mad, and Chikorita won’t get to have a friend.” His hands were clenching and unclenching, and he was shaking. “It’s not fair.”

            Tony mulled this over for a minute. “Nah, it’s really not. What else is new?” When Bruce glared at him, he simply held his gaze. “What, you mad at me now?”

            “You’re my friend. ’m not supposed to be mad at you.”

            “That’s bullcrap and you know it. People get mad and its okay.”

            “But when I get mad people get hurt. I hate it!”

            Irritation flashed across Tony’s face. “They had it coming. They were hurting you first. Look.” He jerked his head in the direction of the Pokéballs still waiting. “This is the beginning of a new chapter, right? Something new and different, like you said. Why not just grab it and go?”

            Bruce hesitated, hands twisting themselves together again. His gaze flicked over to where Selvig stood tactfully not watching, then back to Tony with his stupid encouraging face. Always so assured that everything would be fine. That _he_ would be fine.

            His eyes settled on the ball that sat apart from the other two, where Chikorita had so recently escaped to. If that were him, he wouldn’t want to be left alone just ’cause he blew up at new people sometimes. He would want to be given a chance.

            His shoulders sagged, and Tony let out a whoosh of air before sweeping out his arm in invitation for Bruce to lead the way. So he put one foot in front of the other until he was standing back in front of the Professor.

            “ ’m sorry I blew up, Professor Selvig. I just really want to train Chikorita ’cause I think I could.” Warily defiant, he attempted to square his shoulders as he met Selvig’s eyes. “And um, Tony needs a starter too so you should offer him a Pokémon same as me.”

            “I didn’t make those comments about training Chikorita because I thought you couldn’t,” Selvig said easily as he proffered a Pokéball to Tony. “I just wanted to make sure you really wanted to before taking on such a commitment.”

            “I want to. I’ll be the very best Trainer ever, I promise.” Bruce reached out, letting his hand hover a moment before closing over Chikorita’s Pokéball.

            “Yeah but you’re gonna hafta race me to the finish line,” Tony said, trying to hide his glee at the small, dark-blue-and-yellow creature that now sat on the table, purring happily as he pet just above the flames along its back. “Me an’ Cyndaquil are gonna become champions faster than you can say ‘Science’!”

            “…science.” When Tony rolled his eyes, Bruce let himself smile a bit. “Let’s go, buddy,” he murmured to the Pokéball. “You and me, we’re gonna show them how awesome we are.” He and Tony left the lab chattering to each other, unaware of Selvig’s gaze following them out as he dialed a number into his desk phone.

            “Selvig. Yes, Stark showed. Brought a friend too. Fierce kid.” His eyes narrowed a bit. “No, nothing outside of what you’d expect. Just a couple of kids starting their journey like all the rest.”

            “Yes, they received the Pokéballs with tracking devices. If their movement is usual they should be encountering Agent Coulson by the week’s end.” He puttered as he talked, placing the last Pokémon back in its cupboard and clearing away general detritus. “Yes. No. No. If that’s all?” Moments later the phone was back in its receiver and his laptop was whirring.

            He pulled up his tracking program with a few keystrokes, noting with satisfaction the two red blips now milling around the entrance to Route 29. He’d done his part. All that remained now was to see if this dynamic duo would do theirs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait between updates; long story short school is fucking awful  
> Hope you like the new chapter!

Bruce was generally not someone who was surprised easily, but the knowledge that Tony had never even once set foot outside of New Bark Town nearly had Bruce’s jaw falling through the floor.

            “Never? Really?” The checklist he’d been meticulously checking off for the fourth time was lowered from in front of his face. “How come?”

            Tony studiously ignored him in favor of letting Cyndaquil run up and down his back and over his shoulders. “Adventurous, huh? Me too.” The Pokémon gave him a friendly nip in response and hopped onto his head.

            Frowning, Bruce let his own knapsack alone in favor of plopping himself down next to Tony’s – contents strewn all about and a good five feet behind his friend. Bruce scrutinized his list a moment before sorting through Tony’s things, looking for what they’d need.

            “T-shirts, jeans, you’ll need a sandwich or two, maybe an apple too for nutritional balance, phone…? Tony, where’s your phone?”

            Tony fluttered his hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen, where his phone was found serving as a coaster for a small bowl of chips.

            “This weird flippy thing?” Bruce wrinkled his nose. “What about Pokégear? It has a map and a phone and all built in!”

            Tony flinched, just ever so slightly. Then he plucked Cyndaquil off his head and began making funny faces at it. “You don’t have parents, do you?” he said softly. When it cocked its head to the side in confusion, he nodded. “Me either.”

            _Oh._

            Bruce felt his face soften. He replaced the phone, let his list fall to the floor, sat down next to his friend and studiously shut up. Started counting silently to himself.

            “Dad’s tech is what made Pokégear possible a few years ago.” Tony’s words were all but inaudible at first. “He left on one of his stupid trips, wouldn’t take me with him and wouldn’t tell me how it all worked when I asked. Just like all the other times he left. He hasn’t been back since and I say good riddance!”

            Cyndaquil whined a bit, pushing its head under Tony’s hand. He jumped as though he’d forgotten it was there. “What do _you_ want?” Out came the Pokéball, in went Cyndaquil.

            “I’m a little scared,” Bruce confessed. “What we’re doing is bigger than I thought. So if you are too I won’t laugh or anything.”

            “At least you’ve been out an’ around.”

            “Only as far as Goldenrod City, and I was inside the whole time anyway so I didn’t get to explore much.” He went back to packing. “Hey, at least this means I can show you something new for once instead of the other way ’round.”

            “And you won’t get pissy if I ask too many questions or want to go look at stuff I’m not supposed to?”

            “Sure thing.” Anything to get Tony back to his snarky, crookedly-smiling self. “Now are you gonna pack the stuff you need or do I gotta do it all?”

            “Nah, you’re doing a much better job than I could.” Relaxing, Tony lounged back against the chair where Bruce’s knapsack was sitting. Then he yelped in protest as his Pokéball was snatched from his belt and the Pokémon inside released.

            “Sic him!” Bruce said, grinning.

            “You don’t say that.” Tony shook his head as Cyndaquil followed Bruce’s outstretched finger towards him. “You say ‘Cyndaquil, Ember!”

            Cyndaquil brightened and shot a small spurt of fire at Tony’s feet.

            “Hey!” he cried. He bolted into the kitchen with his Pokémon hot on his heels, chirping happily. He hopped up onto the counter and stuck his ankles into the sink and glared over at Bruce.

            “What was that for?”

            “You still need to make yourself a sandwich for your pack, and you need to get your phone and your toothbrush and a jacket.” Bruce was poring over his list again, poker-faced. “We’ve got the whole day but I’m getting to the next town by lunchtime whether you’re packed or not. Well?” Satisfied that he had everything he could need for now, he slung his pack over his shoulder and raised a brow at his friend. “You coming, or what?”

 

*

 

In the end he’d actually had to run full speed after Tony, who’d suddenly streaked out the door without warning and laughing fit to burst at the resultant look on Bruce’s face. Bruce had finally caught him up (he’d never been much of an athlete) just inside Route 29, and that was only because Tony had stopped a few feet before the long, waving grass, his face ecstatic.

            “It’s happening.” The words were quiet, and Bruce had the odd impression he wasn’t supposed to be hearing them. “It’s really happening.”

            He opened his mouth to reply, but then Tony was pushing happily into the grass that came up to his waist so Bruce simply sighed, shrugged and followed after as he adjusted his pack.

            “Tony, wait up! Hey!” Panting, Bruce stumbled over a rough patch of ground. “Tony, we do need to be careful y’know.”

            “No, I don’t know.” Bruce had never seen such a grin on his friend’s face – part exhilaration, part wonder, all mischief. “I’m gonna catch ’em all and be the very best.”

            “I think a lot of people say that but then don’t always get there.”

            “Psh yeah, but they’re not me.” Scanning the undergrowth, Tony pulled his Pokéball off his belt and began rolling it around in his hand. “ _I’m_ actually gonna do it.”

            “Yeah but how do you know?”

            “’Cause I’ve gotta.” On that flat rejoinder, Tony’s gaze sharpened and he pointed a finger. “Check it! A Sentret! Go, Cyndaquil!”

            The Fire Pokémon appeared and tensed the muscles along its back, so that the flames spurted high as it moved into a fighting stance.

            “Cyndaquil, use Scratch! Get the Sentret!”

            Cyndaquil darted forward, swiping at the brown creature’s tail. It let out a cry, spun ’round and slammed its body into Cyndaquil. Tony’s Pokémon grunted, swiped out again and caught the Sentret on its stomach.

            “What are you _doing?_ ” Bruce cried. “You’re hurting it!”

            “That’s the point!” Tony seemed not to hear him, his features ablaze with thrill. “You gotta hurt ’em before you can catch ’em. Cyndaquil, Ember!” As the Sentret whimpered from the heat searing across its skin, he let out a delighted laugh and punched the air. “All right! Keep Scratching, Cyndaquil, we’ll get it!”

            And then, as quickly as it had started, the Sentret collapsed onto the ground. Tony was crowing about victory, and so did not immediately notice Bruce rushing to the Pokémon’s side.

            “Uh, Bruce? You said you wanted to get to the next town by lunch, yeah? Then we need ta keep moving.”

            “You’ve hurt it! It needs a Pokémon center right away!”

            “Huh? It’s just a wild Pokémon. They faint from battle all the time. It’ll come around on its own, so can we get going already?” When Bruce gathered the Sentret into his arms, Tony’s brows shot up and he let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

            “Taking care of it,” he snapped. Anger was coursing through him, and he didn’t know why. “You should be instead, you’re the one that hurt it, but if you don’t mind hurting it then you probably wouldn’t want to heal it either.”

            Tony shrugged. “Whatever. If it makes you happy.”

            Bruce forged on ahead, taking as much care as he could to not jostle the Sentret too much. Is this what being a Pokémon trainer meant? Hurting the ones that weren’t yours to make yourself stronger? Why did any Pokémon ever obey their trainers, if this was how you were supposed to catch them? How could you hurt a Pokémon one minute then care for it the next?

            A wiggling interrupted his thoughts, and he halted and sat a moment on a small ledge as Sentret stirred.

            “Hey there. You okay?” Nervously he held it up, wincing at the long lines left by Cyndaquil’s scratching. “Sorry about my friend, he doesn’t know any better.”

            The Sentret blinked groggily, tail sweeping back and forth. It yawned, noticed Bruce, then leapt out of his grasp and warily hopped a few feet away.

            “Where are you going?”

            It stopped and scrutinized Bruce closely. Ear twitching, it suddenly turned and scampered into the trees.

            “Hey, you need help! Come back!”

            “I toldja so.” Plucking a berry off a nearby bush, Tony tossed it to Cyndaquil. “They come ’round on their own and then they’re fine. Don’t need anyone to save ’em. That’s just how it is out in the world.”

            “But it’s injured!” Why didn’t Tony understand? He usually understood everything. “It needs to see a doctor.”

            “Whaddya think happens to every other Pokémon that gets injured or faints in the wild?” Calling Cyndaquil back to its Pokéball, Tony offered a hand to help Bruce stand. “It’s a normal thing, Bruce. They get knocked out an’ then get up again when they’re ready.”

            “Is Training always like this? Hurting to get better?”

            “That’s _life_. You gotta fight if you want to win.”

            “Truer words were never spoken.” Startled, Bruce and Tony both turned toward the soft, silkily spoken words. A tall, pale man stood there, suddenly behind them when Bruce could swear they’d been alone only moments before. “The glory of battle is superseded only by the glory of victory. You long for that, don’t you?”

            “Who wants ta know?” But Bruce had seen the momentary gleam in Tony’s eye behind the dismissive phrase, and it worried him.

            “Who are you?” he cut in. “What do you want? We don’t know you.”

            The pale man ignored him, gaze fixed instead on his friend. “You clearly know what it costs to come out on top. If you’re…amenable, I can show you how to get there much more swiftly than you ever would crawling from town to town at less than a glacier’s pace.”

            “Has anyone ever told you that you talk weird?”

            “What?”

            “Dude, you sound like a nutcase that missed his committal to the psych ward.” Tossing his head, Tony turned away. “Let’s get outta here.”

            “Are you sure you want to do that?” There was a warm curl of anger hovering just below the smooth words, a subtle challenge. “Don’t you want a version of your story where you come out on top?”

            Tony flinched, visibly flinched. Bruce’s eyes narrowed and he hastened to stand between the stranger and his friend.

            “G-go away. You’re hurting his feelings.”

            The man heaved a long-suffering sigh, let his gaze fall to meet Bruce’s. The sheer chill in his blue-green eyes nevertheless blazed with hateful rage, and had Bruce biting back on a small noise of fear.

            “This concerns you not. Stay out of my way.” These words were no less soft, no less silky.

            Bruce had never been so immediately scared of someone in his life.

            Grabbing for Tony’s hand, he tugged firmly until Tony seemed to snap out of his reverie and followed him along the path that would take them to Cherrygrove City, and leave the threatening stranger behind them.

            “Remember my words on victory,” he called after them. “If you wish to succeed, you need my help.”

            “Don’t listen.” Breathing hard, Bruce slanted a glance at Tony’s stony features. “Don’t you listen to a word he says.”

            Tony said nothing, only keeping step with his younger friend. His shoulders were hunched slightly, his jaw clenched. The hand not clasped with Bruce’s kept fluttering towards the lone Pokéball on his belt, occasionally closing over the metal as though to reassure himself that it was still there.

            They arrived in Cherrygrove not long after the sun hit its midday peak, and Bruce let loose an audible exhale of relief.

            “I’m starving. Let’s stop and eat, okay?”

            “Yeah. Bruce, what the hell?”

            “Huh?”

            “What even happened over there?” Tony was shivering in the bright sunlight, causing worry to spike sharply into Bruce’s heart – he’d never seen Tony look so agitated. “What did he mean?”

            “Nothing.” _I won’t let anybody get to you._ “He was probably just a nutcase, like you said. Brain like a bag full of cats. He didn’t say anything that even made any sense.”

            “Yeah.” Tony absentmindedly pulled out his sandwich but did not eat. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”


End file.
